


It all started with a Monday

by GreyWeeknds



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2037303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWeeknds/pseuds/GreyWeeknds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall gets through a week of different days of girls to realize that he wants Harry instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It all started with a Monday

Niall is eight when he first kisses somebody. It’s behind the school ground and the sky is cloudless. Kids are running around everywhere, and on the field there’s some boys playing football. Normally Niall’s one of those boys, but today he’s hiding behind the fence where nobody really hangs around in his age.

On the ground there’s fags and broken bottles, and even though he’s only a child, Niall knows perfectly well what has happened here. Because Greg, his big brother, usually sits here with his friends and drinks that awful drink and smoke. Sometimes he brings Niall with him, and he has even made Niall try something called ‘beer’. But then again, that doesn’t happen fairly often, because most of the time Greg despises him and calls him a moron. And Niall’s quite okay with that, because sometimes on the nights when he wakes up because of his stomach cramps, he can hear his mummy screaming at Greg that he’s one too.

When the rays from the sun hit his face, he turns into a deep shade of crimson from the top of his head to the bottom of his shoulders. He’s tugging at the sleeve of his shirt, and his hands are shaking and his heart is jumping.

One may think that it’s the heat that is the reason why his cheeks are blossomed by redness, but so is not the case. Because the reason why little Niall Horan is blushing so fiercely this afternoon is that the lovely girl Monday has just pecked his lips. Before he can even process it she has ran away, embarrassed by what she has done.

And so it had all begun, with a simple Monday.  
-

Niall is thirteen when he first tries a cigarette. He’s sitting on the same stairs, behind the same fence, where he got his first kiss. It a girl called Tuesday that’s offeres him it, and all his friends are watching him, waiting for him to impress the girl.

Tuesday isn’t that beautiful, but she’s older than him, and that’s all that matters for him to be considered cool. She’s seventeen, and her hair is dyed black and it reaches to her neck, and she looks like a panda with that make-up around her eyes.

Her clothes aren’t that much better either. She’s got a ripped shirt with a band he’s never heard of, and her trousers are striped in black and white.

When Niall finally takes the cigarette from her fingers he sees scars on her wrists. Some are old, some are new, and he wonders what ever could have done those. The scar that isn’t really a scar, that’s almost as new as ripped flesh, is tried to be hidden by rubber-braceletes.

When he looks up he sees her eyes looking so frightened, because he knows that she knows that he knows. And her gaze seems so pleadingly, and those tears that she tries to keep back looks so sad, and that cut must hurt so damn much.

So before he tries the smoking cigarette, he takes her hand in his and takes her wrist to his mouth, and he places a light kiss to her gash. And he knows that he’s just imagining it, but somehow, he sees how that scar that isn’t a scar, fades away into a white line.

She smiles sadly at him, and a single tear falls down her cheek. He’s happy that her back is turned to his friends, because that way they never see it. He mouths to her that it will remain as a secret between them, and her entire face softens.

Niall regrets what he thought before, because Tuesday really is beautiful in her own way. And he can’t stop to wonder what she would look like without any make-up on, and her hair all natural and long. Maybe she’s the prettiest girl in the whole world, even with those scars on her arms.

Niall puts the cigarette between his plump lips, and he inhales the smoke when she whispers ‘you ready?’. He begins to cough immediately, and his cheeks turn pink when he hears his friends snickering at him. When Tuesday hisses at them to shut up, they all turn silent.

She takes a firm grip around his scalp and drags him so close to her face that their noses bumps. Niall is the first one to make the move now, and he places his mouth on hers.

She opens her lips, and mumbles so quietly into his mouth that Niall’s the only one who can catch what she says; “You’re too young for me, but that can be a secret too if you want”.

When she breaks apart and Niall looks at his friends, he knows that he’s got more than their approval. He looks at her one last time and squeezes her shoulder and gives her a silent ‘thank you’, and she returns it with a hesitant smile before her eyes falls down to the ground and she takes the cigarette from his hand and puts it in her own mouth.

What Niall doesn’t know is that he saved a Tuesday that day.

-

Niall is fifteen when he loses his virginity. It’s in his old bedroom, and his parents are out at some fancy business dinner and they probably won’t be coming back until midnight since they’re served food that they couldn’t afford if they had to pay for it themselves.

The girl that he’s brought home looks like the type of girl that you should do it with the first time, or so he thinks anyway.

She’s a curly redhead, and her eyes are astonishing blue. Her name is Wednesday.

Wednesday doesn’t seem to notice (or is too polite to mention it) how clumsy he is when he kisses her and presses her body too roughly against the white cotton sheets. Instead she loughs, and in his ears it sounds like music.

She’s so neat against him, and if he could, then he would count all the freckles on her cheeks. But doesn’t have the time, and even if he did, there’s far too many for him to even know where to begin.

Some of Wednesday’s hair sticks to his sweaty chest, and when he touches her perky pinkish breast, it doesn’t really give him the sensation that he thought he would get.

She’s gorgeous, there’s no question about that, but what lingers on his mind for almost forty-five minutes is that when his friend Louis talks to him about breasts and how amazing they are. How they feel when he squeezes them, and how they bounce against him when he embraces a girl’s body, he always looks so dreamy, almost euphoric, and that is not the feeling that he’s feeling at this moment. All he can think about is that they’re too mushy, to big, just too much.

So he drops the thought about touching her boobs, because perhaps he’s one of those guys that just don’t get that turned on by them.

But then he starts to make love to her, and realizes that he’s not doing it properly. Because he’s not making love to her, they’re only having sex, and it feels rather meaningless to be honest. All his expectations of it has been crushed in a matter of just a few seconds, and he wonders if this is all there is to it. Isn’t he supposed to feel warm and fussy about this whole thing?

After what feels like hours they stop, and she presses her face against his neck and she murmurs that sometimes it just doesn’t happen, that it happens to guys all the time. But that doesn’t make him feel less ashamed, less like a man. He should be able to come when he’s inside a girl, the closest you could be to another human, and he just fails.

Only two minutes later she’s gone, fled away from the house, and for that entire night he lies awake and thinks about this girl Tuesday that he hasn’t thought about in years. For the first time he understands why she did what she did to herself, and he hopes that this comprehension will disappear as fast as it came.

And it does.

-

Niall is sixteen when he first gets drunk. He’s at a party by the lake’s house, and he been invited to parties before, and this isn’t the first time that he’s been drinking, but this is sure as hell the first time that he get this wasted.

It all starts with beer. It’s him and the other guys from the football team that sits by the fire and passes around a few bottles. Liam is the only one who isn’t drinking, and if Niall can recall it right it’s because he has three kidneys or whatever.

The guys are bragging about girls that they have shagged, and they’re all pretending that they haven’t hears the same names countless before. When it’s Niall’s turns everything just turns silent, because everyone knows that Niall’s one had sex once before.

And he’s so tired of their gazes that scream pity, so tired of having to brag about something that isn’t worth bragging about. So he lies, he says that last week he shagged Thursday in his class.

When he tells them they look very surprised, but then after the shock has settled they congratulate him, and for a moment he feels proud of himself even though it actually never happened.

What he never (but should have) expected is that words spread fast, and lies, they seem to travel even faster. Thursday lunges forward, with a sneer on her face, and yells at him that he’s a pathological liar and that she never expected him for being such a douche.

Niall doesn’t know where it comes from, or why he even does it, but he calls her a slut and that she’s the liar who can’t admit that they slept together. Then he begins to rant over how much she whined his name when she came, and before he can continue this disgusting lie she slaps him. She calls him a moron, and this time the word stings so much more. Because this time he really is a moron, and he’s never felt so bad about himself that he does at the moment.

Instead of taking it as a man and admit what he has done, he takes a shot of vodka. Then he takes another one, and after that everything gets kind of foggy.

What he remembers is the sensation of rushing happiness, and how hard it suddenly is to even walk. He leaves his friends, and how he even gets there he’s still not sure of, but he ends up in a trench puking his guts off. In that moment he’s sure he’s going to die of his own vomits.

But then he hears a raspy voice shouting at him: “Hey, how you feeling man?”

Niall doesn’t bother to open his eyes, instead he wants to melt into the grass and never be found so he doesn’t have to face the consequences of his own stupidity.

Then he feels a hand rubbing his back, and he sort of caves in into the larger unfamiliar body. All of the sudden he starts to sob, and he clenches his hands unto the stranger that he still hasn’t gotten the courage to look at.

“Hey, hey! Calm down, and breathe.” the other boy whispers into his ears as he holds Niall tighter to his body. “I’ve got you.”

Niall then starts to spill out what he had done, and he didn’t even thought that he could feel more ashamed than what he did earlier, but now when the alcohol has begun to cool down, and his consciousness start to kick in, he feels even worse.

Poor Thursday, one of the girls in his class that actually seemed like a nice and down to earth one, had to take all this shit that she really didn’t deserve, just because Niall still hadn’t hooked up with more than one.

“I’m so stupid.” Niall cries out before he starts to puke again.

“Yeah, she’s not that happy with you.” The stranger states. “But I told her that I made you do it, to see if she really was a good girlfriend.”

Niall feels a pang in his chest, and it’s not of courage that he looks up now, but of guilt. Here he is, disinclined to take care of himself, while a guy that really should beat the hell up of him takes care of him and caress his head and tucks away strands of hair behind his ear.

“She’s your girlfriend?” Niall asks dumbfounded.

“Was.” He chuckles. “She wasn’t too keen to continue being mine when she found out what I had done towards me.”

Niall stares at him confusedly, and the piercing green eyes kind of smiles back at him. Niall doesn’t understand why he’s acting so nice towards him, and he wants to ask why and thank him for not being a jerk to him when he really should be.

“But you didn’t do anything to her.” Niall states like it it’s obvious.

“I know that, but she doesn’t.” He says, and the giggle that once was in that raspy voice is gone, and now he just sounds kind of indifferent. “I thought that I could spare you some of the embarrassment. I’m fairly certain that you already feel enough bad about your actions tonight.”

Niall doesn’t say thank you, instead he just throws his arms around the broad shoulders and stays like that for what feels like forever.

When he finally lets go of the larger chest he looks down at his feet, and he’s never felt as small as he feels right now.

“I’m Niall.” He mumbles.

“I’m Harry.” The other one says as he shakes Niall’s hand politely.

It’s an odd gesture, and it really shouldn’t be like this, but in that moment it fits in so perfectly well that it makes Niall grin so damn much that his dimples breaks out.

That’s the moment where Niall and Harry become best friends.

-

Niall is eighteen when he gets his heart broken for the first time. Her name is Friday, and she has curly brown hair and two melting green orbs.

Her skin is milky white and she feels so smooth whenever he touches her.

His favourite part of her is her palms, how soft they are against his. He should probably say that he loves her bum the most, but after what happened two years ago, he promised himself to never lie again if it wasn’t really necessary.

He loves the way they feel in the morning. They’re usually hot by the cup of tea she’s holding in her hands, just wearing her white bathrobe and putting her messy hair in a bun. He loves the way they feel when she’s just showered. They’re wet and slippery, and her nails sort of bends when he tries to press them down. He loves the way the feel when they’ve had sex; they’re his absolute favourite then. They’re trembling of exhaustion, looking so full of adrenaline, of life, that he feels drunk by just looking at her.

Its utterly love whatever it is that he feels about her. So when he one day opens a text message that she has sent joyfully, it feels like his entire world is collapsing. She hasn’t written much, mostly ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ or ‘it’s better now than when it’s too late’. It ended with a simple _‘I’m sorry’._

That’s the reason why he ends up at Harry’s porch that night, his eyes bloodshot. Harry invites him in, and they walk up the stairs to his room and Niall sits on his bed.

He’s quiet then. It’s like he’s not ready to utter the words that it’s all over, that him and Friday aren’t any longer _him and Friday._

Harry who’s been standing at the threshold for what have felt like an eternity sits beside him and puts his arm around Niall’s neck. After a simple “Hey, what’s wrong?” Niall starts to cry heavily, and he doesn’t really have to explain it to him, because it painted on his face what happened.

“She’s stupid for not realizing how amazing you are.” Harry says as he grasps a hold of his hand.

It makes him think of Friday again, of her palms, and the tears fall even heavier down on his thighs now. He remember how they just used to hold hands sometimes, just small affections, and he can still feel her touch like it’s burned into his skin.

“No, I’m the one who’s stupid for believing that I was good enough for her when I’m clearly not.”

Harry lets go of him and then the takes a firm fold of his shoulders and starts to shake him like a toy. It abruptly makes him stop crying for a couple of seconds, and he looks in confusion at Harry.

“I never want to hear you say you’re stupid again, do you hear me? You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. I’m not nearly as clever as you are; I’m the one who’s stupid compared to you. I can’t solve equations in a matter of seconds like you can, and I’m not a fast learner. I don’t understand fancy words, nor can I use them.” He exclaims upsettingly. “But when I’m with you I want to become fucking Einstein, because I less than three summons you.” He adds.

Niall doesn’t understand half of what Harry’s saying to him, but it feels comforting and nice to know that Harry cares so much about him as a friend.

He’s never had that type of close friendship with someone else before, that lets him behave like he wants to and where he never feels like he has to pretend something or impress to feel like he belongs. He’s never felt with anyone else like he’s so light that could almost float on clouds, or that it tickles in his belly whenever he’s with Harry. He’s just so lucky to have such a great friend like him, and he just wishes that he could comprehend the look on Harry’s face when he says “Thanks Haz, for being my pal.”

What Niall doesn’t realize right then and there, at this very moment, is that there’s a wall that’s starting to build between the two of them.

-

Niall is nineteen when he gets his second girlfriend. Her name is Saturday, and when Niall asks her to be his, he’s so nervous that he feels like fainting. When she answer him with a kiss, he can swear that he hears can hear church bells ringing.

She reminds him a lot about Friday. The way she looks, the way she walks, and almost everything about Saturday is a copy of her. But what tells them apart is that Niall trusts her to not break his heart like Friday did.

He met her for the first time at the park. It had only been about a month after his breakup, and he had heard a voice shouting ‘Bruno!’ loudly. Then before he knew it he was pushed against the ground, and a Dalmatian was standing on him as he was licked in the face.

Normally something like that would irritate him, but when he saw the girl that the dog belonged to, he started to smile. When the dog had been removed off his body he had just brushed the dirt of his jeans, and introduced himself. How he ended up buying her an ice cream by the harbour had surprised him, but it had quickly evaporated when she had nibbled her lips against his forehead and given him her number.

After that everything had just went in fast-forward. Every day had felt better than the other, and the more time that he spent with her, the more the memory of Friday seemed to distinguish.

So when he told the good news to his best friend, he wasn’t greeted in the way that he had imagined.

Instead he can see him rapidly trying to blink away tears, and once again he’s reminded of a girl he once knew, but now forgotten the name of.

“Haz, what is it?” Niall asks unsettled.

For the first time that he’s ever known Harry, he looks timid and broken, and he doesn’t understand what just happened.

He gets no response; instead he sees how Harry’s body is gradually starting to shake harder and harder as his tears drops down. Niall doesn’t know what to do, and he feels like the most terrible friend in the universe for watching his friend break down in front of him while he does nothing.

“Harry please,” he starts, and he sees him crack an eye open, “say something, do something so I can understand whatever it is that you’re feeling…”

Before he gets to talk finished he feels to wet lips being pressed against his. Niall’s eyes are wide open, and he’s petrified and can’t move as he stiffens under the touch.

It’s Harry who breaks apart, and Niall wants to say something, but the words just dies on his lips. But how can he voice his thoughts when they are such a rambling mess?

“I’m in love with you Niall. Since the moment I first laid eyes on you at that stupid party.” Harry declares in a scratchy voice.

He looks so sincere, and so humiliated, and the tension between them is strained like ice. Niall feels numb and suffocated, but mostly betrayed. Harry’s supposed to be his best friend, and best friends don’t just fall in love with one another. But then he gets disappointed at himself, because he’s supposed to be Harry’s best friend too, and he should have realized, should have understood what was going on. He should have noticed that Harry never got together with someone after Thursday.

The time feels unbearable, and he feels like he’s going to whimper. All Niall want to do in that moment is to rewind time and never had gone to Harry today in the first place, because then he could have enjoyed at least more than two hours of having a new girlfriend.

He can see that Harry’s waiting for him to say something, but he just can’t. He’s Harry, just Harry. He’s never going to see him as anyone else, and he wishes so much that he could see Niall the same way.

When he tries to hold his hand, Niall doesn’t let him. He feels disgusted by his touch, like Harry’s salt and Niall is an open wound.

He jumps up from the kitchen chair and mutters a quiet “I’m sorry.” He can’t even bring himself to look Harry in the eyes before he leaves the house.

There’s so much unsaid when Niall rushes out of that room after that. He really shouldn’t, but after that he kind of avoids every call and text message that he gets from Harry for almost a month.

Shortly after that he breaks it of with Saturday, and he doesn’t even feel sad for her when she begins to cry.

-

Niall is still nineteen when he meets Sunday, or that’s what he calls her anyway.

She’s dancing in the club, and while her body moves fantastically on the dance floor, her long curly hair floats like fairies in the air.

Her skin is dark, but what strike him the most are her eyes. They’re so green that it almost hurts to look at them, so instead he just grinds his hips against hers as he narrows his gaze. It doesn’t take that much effort to take her home with him.

He’s fucking her so hard so that they both pass out in just short while after they arrived.

That night Niall dreams of seven different women.

He dreams of Monday, the first girl he ever kissed. She’s so tiny, and she runs away when he tries to talk to her.

He dreams of Tuesday, the first girl he ever felt sorry for. When he waves his hand at her, she only sends him a sad smile.

He dreams of Wednesday, the first girl he ever became united to. She looks hastily at him, and what he remembers as despise in her eyes, looks more as concern now. He walks toward her, but just as Monday she rushes away.

He dreams of Thursday, the first girl he ever treated badly. She’s looking at him with the same sneer, and he begs her for forgiveness, but she refuses to take it and storms off.

He dreams of Friday, the first girl he ever loved. She’s standing in the sun, and her hair glistens. He tells her that he forgives her, and she just smiles softly at him a gives him a reassuring hug before she too disappears.

He dreams of Saturday, the first girl he ever dumped. She’s crying, and he regrets how he broke her heart when he knows how horrible it feels. She says that she forgives him, and then she just fades away.

Then he dreams of Sunday, the last girl he’ll ever be with. He’s standing beside her, and he gives her one final kiss on her cheek before he whispers goodbye. Because Niall finally catches on in that dream that he’s had an entire week of totally different days that hasn’t really suited him. He’s gotten so many chances, yet he’s not really taken them to heart because in reality he’s never really wanted to.

When he wakes up that morning he scribbles down a note and leaves a key on the nightstand. He hopes that Sunday will forgive for leaving her so quickly, but what he have to do can’t wait anymore. Perhaps Friday was right when she wrote that it was better sooner than later, because he deeply aspires Sunday to not get hurt.

Time doesn’t go fast enough now, and he almost destroys Harry’s door when he knocks on it so roughly. His knuckles are almost turning white.

“Harry, open up, it’s Niall!” he shouts.

He can hear that Harry is standing behind the door, because he’s always stamping his feet whenever he’s anxious.

“I know you’re there Harry, I need to talk to you.” He says, this time lower and gentler.

He sees the door open slowly, before the same boy with the piercing green eyes greets him and the brown curls that fall reluctantly in front of his face.

Niall doesn’t say anything; instead he throws himself on Harry and presses his lips so hard against the other mouth that he can’t be certain that he didn’t split his own lip. He pushes in his tongue into Harry’s mouth in so much need, and he can feel how all the tension just dissolves in Harry’s upper body.

They separate their lips for a split second, and Niall whispers desperately:

“Please, stay with me.”

Harry looks at him in such a way as though he’s afraid of blinking in case he’ll just perish.

“I thought you didn’t want this.” Harry says hesitantly.

Niall touches him, and his palms feel so delicate against his shoulders. Niall’s fairly certain that he’s found a new pair of favourite hands now.

“I didn’t. But you’re my best friend, and I can’t imagine you being with somebody else than me.”

He ghosts his lips again against Harry, and this time he responds the kiss.

“Okay, I’ll stay then.” He mouths into him.

For the first in a very long time, Niall feel nothing but pure happiness and love. Perhaps best friends are allowed to fall for one another.

-

It all had started with a Monday, but Niall ends it with a Harry.

**Author's Note:**

> I really want to hear what you think. So if you thought that it was good, bad, need some improvements or have anything other on your mind, please feel free to leave a comment about your thoughts!


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